Wiles of War
by Weirdo-Lover
Summary: When the war is over and the dead are buried, love is in the air. Or maybe not. Oneshot.


**I do NOT own _Naruto_.**

* * *

**Before**** the War**

Ayame sighed, scrubbing down the counter. It was past midnight and she was still cleaning Ichiraku's surfaces. Apparently, going to war gave some shinobi the notion that the night before they left they should get as drunk as possible, and then eat lots and lots of ramen. And make a mess big enough to give her sores for days.

If only _he_ had been there tonight, maybe he would've tamed those young ninja. Maybe he would've driven them away, like that night months ago when a merchant had decided to grope her inappropriately over the counter, and _he_ had luckily been there, teaching the assailment a good lesson on proper table manners.

"He," of course, was Hatake Kakashi.

The truth of the matter was, the man always fascinated her, and the fact that Ayame wasn't able to say her farewells to him before the war was a little unsettling.

They never spoke more or less than they needed to, and always greeted one another if she was lucky enough to run into him on the streets for one reason or the other. He treated her father with respect, and had always been polite, if not a little flirtatious, towards her ever since she could remember. On few instances, he'd tell her how pretty she looked, though most of the time he actually saw her she was in her work uniform, so she simply dismissed his compliments with a wave of the hand. On even fewer instances still, Kakashi had allowed himself the occasional lingering touch—when she'd serve him food or pass him new chopsticks because he'd "accidentally" lose the ones that came with the meal.

She always found the chopsticks later, at the counter's edge, where'd she need to bend over from the employee side of the stand to actually see them.

He was a sly one, that Kakashi. And a good man. She remembered how he'd treated his new team of genin three years ago, and how quiet he'd become after his students had gone their separate ways. She recalled how cheerful he'd been after Naruto's return, how he looked her dead in the eye as he told her and her father the good news.

Ayame sighed again, scrubbing harder. Okay. So maybe her upset mood had more to do with not seeing Kakashi off than it did the messy, drunken shinobi from earlier. It's not like it'd never happened before, and the shinobi weren't really _that_ drunk. They actually had her laughing bit, up until they started making a mess, of course.

When her eyes watered over, she didn't bother wiping the tears away as they fell. Ichiraku's panel was closed, so it wasn't as if anyone would see her cry. Plus, somehow, for one unexplainable reason or the other, she'd fallen for the silly ninja named Hatake Kakashi.

And now he was going off to war and she couldn't even say goodbye—what if she never saw him again?

It was well past one when the cleaning was done, and she was fumbling with the keys to lock the back exit door.

"It seems I'm too late."

Ayame gasped, her heart lurching up into her throat, keys falling to the ground as she twisted around in a start, pressing her back against the door in fright. Who was—

"Kakashi-san, you nearly scared me to death!" she breathed, one hand clutching at her chest while the other was firmly placed on the door behind her, holding her up. "You mustn't sneak up on me like that."

He held his hands up in defense, saying, "Sorry," and then as an afterthought, "It's a habit of sorts."

"A rather bad habit, sir," she said, still pressed against the door.

"I suppose so," he said slowly, eyeing the way she was holding herself in front of him, with the raise of his only visible brow. After all, she was desperately trying to regain her breath, eyes as big as the moon. She must have looked quite silly.

Having just scared her a second ago had nothing to do with the lack of support her knees were giving her. It was the notion that Kakashi was _there_, with _her_, in the middle of the night, _before_ the war, that gave her a hard time breathing.

"Ayame-chan, are you—"

"Why are you here?" she quickly interrupted him, and she didn't miss how something flashed through his exposed eye, though she wasn't exactly sure what it was. Whatever it was, it'd made her press just a little closer to the door.

"For ramen," he said simply and her heart sank.

_Of course_ he was there for ramen! What other possible reason would've made him visit Ichiraku? Albeit, it was past midnight, and everyone and their mother knew that they closed fifteen minutes 'til. Even after the Pein invasion and rebuilding, they kept the original functions of the shop. But still. Kakashi obviously wasn't there for her. He said so himself, so it must've been true.

She was such a fool to think all those times he'd been extra friendly was because he fancied her, even if just a little. Men could be so…so urgh!

"I see," she said, and she cursed herself for sounding so shaken up. She forced herself to relax in his presence, and picked up the fallen keys. Now she just had to lock up and go home, never mind that she could feel Kakashi's eyes following her every movement. But even that must've been entirely her imagination. Ayame knew she had no sense of direction or presence. The only thing she was good at was cooking and encouraging the casually customer, at least, that was what she was told.

As she twisted the key, Kakashi suggested, "Let me walk you home." He could be so nice, but couldn't he see that his kindness gave her false hope—in the past, and dare she admit it, even now?

She turned to face him, fake smile in place. "No, thank you for asking. You should go straight home and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy…day…for…wha-what are you doing, Ka-kakashi-san?" she stuttered at the end, as said man began to make his way towards her—_quite seriously._

He tilted her chin upwards with his long fingers, and she tried to ignore them as best she could. "Why were you crying?"

"I…how did you—"

"Your eyes, Ayame-chan. Their rimmed as red as fire."

"Allergies," she whispered pathetically, savoring the way his fingers felt. He touched her so delicately. Her eyes searched his sculptured male features, though covered beneath a mask. She'd only seen him without it a handful of times, but such few times would be imprinted into her mind forever.

"Come on," he said sweetly, "I know how you look after you cry. Remember when Naruto left?"

That's right. Ayame had cried like a little baby when Naruto said his goodbyes to her and her father before going off with that Jiraiya fellow. Kakashi had stopped by after that and seen her, and her father, God bless his soul, had told him why she looked the way she did.

"Well, yes, I—"

"Are you worried about him?" Blast it! He wasn't letting her talk. "He's safe where he is now, Ayame-chan."

She forced herself to pull away from his fingers, her back turned towards him again. It was now or possibly never. One never knew with war.

"It's not Naruto-kun," she said kindly. "I know he can take good care of himself, no matter the situation. I was simply…simply disheartened with the possibility that I…that I wouldn't be able to say goodbye."

"To Naruto?"

"To you!" she cried, frustrated, spinning on her heel to give him a determined look. There! She said it. Now the shy baker's sister across the street could stop calling her a coward.

"Ayame-chan…" he spoke softly. Here it came. The awkwardness. The rejection.

She closed her eyes and braced herself with whatever words he decided to break her heart with. Those forsaken romance novels made love seem so easy and fixable, but they never emphasized enough on how utterly terrible it really was.

"Yes?" she said shakily, eyes still closed.

"I didn't come here for ramen."

Before she could gasp or open her eyes in surprise, Kakashi was right in front of her, hands on her waist, pulling her so close Ayame was dizzy with the sudden waft of his scent. "Then why…?" she barely uttered, her hands coming up to hold onto his biceps, glad to hold herself up with _something_.

He chuckled, as he usually did, pulling her closer. "Why, to say goodbye, of course."

"Oh my," she breathed, as he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on her neck. "Goodbye," she said her farewell, mind soaring to cloud nine. She'd never really been this close to a male that wasn't a relative.

"So much fret over my leaving and that's how you say goodbye?" he teased, laughing a bit. "You disappoint me, Ayame-chan. Your tears mustn't have been for me, after all."

Ayame's mouth opened in mute shock. Just what was he going on about? Resistance suddenly bubbled up inside of her. Trying to pull away, she cried, "You oaf! Saying such things at a time like—what are you mooin manal fum—hmm!"

Kakashi's masked mouth was soft and warm on hers. She pulled away in a gasp. "Kakashi!" she breathed, the suffix abandoned in her surprise. Had he just—did he really—there was no way—

"Sorry," he spoke huskily, not sounding sorry at all. His arms were tightly wrapped around her, holding her so close she could barely breathe, but that was what his presence always did to her anyway. And then suddenly, before her astonishment could settle, he said, "I think I want to kiss you again."

"I—why, Kakashi-san?" she questioned, brows forward, not daring to move away from his grasp. "I don't understand." She questionably searched his expression for a few seconds, but couldn't read much more from him, considering the mask and all.

Looking so intently, however; she did notice the grim smile beneath his mask. "You shouldn't ask a man so many questions before he goes off to war," he said, the inside of his eye tightening, his fingers twitching against her.

She was about to reply something fierce, because Ayame wasn't the type of woman who let herself be manhandled, but then backtracked. What Kakashi said made sense in a way. She eyed him curiously. He was going to war…and if she never saw him again…if he didn't visit anymore…if she didn't just give him one silly little kiss…

Ayame reached up with her left arm and tentatively wrapped it around his shoulder, hosting herself on her tippy toes more easily. With her other hand, she softly touched his masked face, letting the tips of her fingers sink into the edge of it. She was shaking.

"Ayame-chan," Kakashi said in a low voice, his hand coming up to assist her in her quest to unmask him.

Now their gazes were on each other's lips. She swallowed nervously.

"I'm afraid," she started, voice dry, so she had to clear her throat. She tried again—"I'm afraid you'll have to take it from here, Kakashi-san. You see…I'm no good…"

Kakashi leaned down and her knees buckled forward, causing his grip to tighten on her. "That's…" he started, "impossible."

Then he kissed her, and this time, she didn't pull away, but responded to it. A minute into the gentle, slow kiss, he became eager for more, and who was she to deny him? The man was going off to war in a few hours and he seemed to be letting off his steam with a goodbye kiss. Interestingly enough, the notion of Kakashi using her to release whatever frustrations he held against the war didn't bother her in the least. Why? Because he was choosing her. Because he was saying goodbye in a way she'd never forget.

She was sure of it.

* * *

**After the War**

Ayame watched, keyed up, as Konoha's beloved shinobi paraded through the entrance of the village. Most of them wore relieved smiles, happy to be home, and meaningless violence put behind them. Animated villagers watched from their windows or balconies in high buildings, tossing rice and colorful graffiti at them, celebrating their return. A lot of, "welcome home" was offered, and lot's of hand-blown kisses from pretty young ladies and older women alike were given—even males were whistling and hooting at the beautiful female soldiers of their Konoha.

Teuchi grinned down beside her at the vista, considering she made it a point of standing up on a chair to view the scene over the heads of dozens and dozens of fellow villagers—she wasn't exactly tall. Or as some liked to bluntly point out, "vertically challenged."

"This is always a sight to see," he father said, having been witness to the wars prior.

Ayame noted, a little disheartened, the amount of ninja coming back home was not the same amount that had left. She tried to concentrate on the fact that at least they were under no moon-induced illusion, and this reality was as real as real could get.

Her heart sunk a bit when a dark haired shinobi walked up to an older woman nearby, spoke a few words, and then the woman promptly burst into tears. Ayame tried to stifle the rising panic in her chest, peering over the heads of everyone again, searching the crowd for sliver hair.

She found none.

What she did find, however, was a nicely built kunoichi in uniform run straight into the awaiting arms of a tall, scrawny young man. A civilian. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, wasting no time at all in kissing him square on the mouth.

The man pulled away first, saying, "Babe, I've missed you so much!"

"Shut up and keep kissing me!" the kunoichi retorted, and it didn't take long before the man granted her request. The surrounding crowd of people applauded, cheering all the while.

It took Ayame a full minute to realize that the tall, scrawny young man was the timid baker from down the street whom people thought would never find himself a doll. Even his nosy sister had said so. Well, that sure proved the masses wrong. The beautiful scene caused Ayame's eyes to mist over in emotion.

Were actions of love so common after a war?

The kiss reminded her of a certain memory that she couldn't quite keep from resurging every night since its birth, and as she began to frantically search for silver hair again, she couldn't help her thoughts from going back to that night.

When she spotted a glimpse of silver hair, several feet away, Ayame couldn't help but jump down from the chair and race into the parade of ninja. Before she could make her way towards her goal, she was bumped into, stepped on and groped. She breathed in a large intake of fresh oxygen when she emerged from the animated crowd of civilians. But now she was in the way of the ninja who were being praised and called to.

The shinobi closest to her looked at her intriguingly, smiling a little. "Hey, it's the ramen girl," one said, and she tried not to scowl at the nickname the village dubbed her since birth.

She smiled politely back, lifting a hand in a greeting. Her insignificant and mundane gesture had the little group leering.

"Okay, now I'm definitely going to Ichiraku later," another said, laughing all the while when five other shinobi agreed.

Before she could discourage the young man's suggestive statement, another shock of sliver flashed to her right and she immediately turned on her heel and ran towards it. When she reached the back of the sliver-haired uniformed man, she touched his shoulder hopefully, but when the shinobi turned around, disappointment filled her tummy. This wasn't Kakashi.

"Can I help you?" the stranger asked civilly.

"Um, no…sorry to bother you. Welcome home, shinobi-san," she said, frowning. The stranger nodded, turning his back to her again. Now what?

She looked around, but she couldn't see much—just lots of green uniforms and dark blue sleeves. She began to jump up and down, trying to see over people, but it was useless. She was sure if anyone was paying attention to her, they'd laugh at her ridiculousness. She tried not to think about the humiliation, because really, everyone else was practically jumping in excitement, why couldn't she? Though, her "excitement" was more like "frantic searching," but whatever, same difference.

"Ayame-chan?"

She froze, and then very slowly, turned around.

Kakashi stood about ten feet away, his usually visible eyebrow raised. She blushed, utterly embarrassed. Had he _seen _what she was doing? Oh no, oh _no_.

Before she could further contemplate on her mortification, Kakashi strode towards her, quickly pulling his mask down to reveal a cheerful grin. "Ayame-chan!" he said, eager this time, closing in on her.

And then, barely under a second, he was cradling her neck in one arm while his other one tightly wrapped entirely around her lower waist, kissing her deeper than the kunoichi and the baker had earlier. In the blur of it all, her left arm hung useless from her body and the other was stuck between them—if her back arched any more she'd break in half, but o, she couldn't find it in herself to care!

Kakashi was here and alive and _kissing_ her!

Still being passionately kissed, Ayame opened her eyes, realizing she'd closed them when Kakashi had practically attacked her. She blinked a couple of times, comprehending that everything was diagonally upside down from the position he held her in. But what was more astonishing was the dozens and dozens of onlookers stupidly grinning and hooting towards…. their direction? Wait...were they….were they _watching_ them?

She clenched her eyes shut, opening her mouth to tell Kakashi that if he wanted to keep doing this, it had to be _in private_, but her words came out as a muffled noise and apparently Kakashi thought it was some sort of encouragement, because he deepened the kiss with his…with his…!

"Sensei?" came a confused, male voice. Naruto.

"Sensei!" exclaimed another voice, but female. Sakura.

"What the…" came a third. Was that…SASUKE?

At the voices, Kakashi finally parted from her mouth, and Ayame gulped down much needed oxygen. When his grip loosened, she pulled away, throwing her hands to her scorching face, utterly embarrassed. She prayed her father had not seen anything!

She could just hear the rumors now! The copy nin and the ramen girl. Oh, dear.

"Is that…is that _Ayame-san_?" Naruto inquired, absolutely shocked. "And are you…are you NOT wearing a mask?"

Kakashi coughed in his hand awkwardly. "I thought it was the right time to show you my face, kids. You know, since Sasuke's back."

The three of them looked at him dumbfounded.

Ayame hoped the shock of seeing his face made them forget Kakashi's PDIA, public display of inappropriate affection. Before she could sneak away—

"Right, Ayame-chan?" Kakashi inquired, smiling at her in the way he always did when he teased her.

"Uhhh," she said unintelligibly.

"See?" Kakashi indicated a hand towards her. "Ayame was in on the whole thing."

Now the four of them stared at him. Naruto was as shocked as she felt, and Sasuke looked like he was regretting ever coming back. Sakura seemed to start having trouble fighting off a smile. Ayame was actually beginning to become quite upset—angry even!

"What?" he said, pretending to be innocently puzzled.

Sasuke was the first to speak. "I'm leaving."

"Right behind you, buddy," Naruto mumbled, following the Uchiha through the crowd of shinobi. Sakura happily followed her teammates, giving Kakashi and Ayame one last curious look.

When they were out of earshot, Ayame spoke up, fury rising. "So what was that about the 'right time' to show your 'face'?"

"Uhhh," now it was Kakashi's turn to sound unintelligible.

* * *

**A/N: Written because there is a shortage of KakaAya fics. I wanted the last kiss to reflect the "Kiss of the Century" photograph after WWII in Times Square, NY. Best picture kiss ever!**

**Oh and, thanks for reading! Leave a review if you liked it, if you didn't...uhhhh… sorry? **


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